Pit of Humanity
by emptyvoices
Summary: Based on a dream I had. I'm not sure whether to continue but the story involves a brutal attack of a girl and the ramifications thereof. Perhaps I'll develop more as I'm being inspired in that way.
1. Chapter 1

A dark pit of humanity. That is where Anne realized she was where all her dreams died to make way for grievous nightmares she had never before fathomed were possible. A simple sojourn home from work where she had made the resolution to walk the short distance rather then take her car out into the oppressive summer heat took her to short cut through a one way street.

That idiotic choice to attempt to shave off a few minutes from her trip cost her more then she thought possible. It was with all disgust that she gazed down at her own skin, marred by the bruises and filth of that alley. _My fault. My fault. My fault. _Indeed it was. It was her stupidity that made her comfortable to journey in an area devoid of others without a thought to her own safety. How dearly had she paid for her naiveté.

_If only…_but it was useless to think that way. Only hours ago, she had rounded that corner. Listening to her ipod, humming along happily, thinking of the weekend ahead of her. And then a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind dragging her backwards. She had attempted to scream only to have a fist crash down upon her face causing a series of dots to dance before her eyes. Darkness threatened to prevail only to recede a few moments later. However she had been stunned well enough to allow her attacker to drag her a short way behind a door. The shadows seem to contort around them and her breath finally seemed to return and she struggled against the grip her had on her only to be thrown with sudden force onto the hard cement floor which smelled distinctly of gasoline and old paint. It was sickening…nauseating. The other putrid odors that surrounded her that she couldn't identify.

She turned around slowly favoring the arm she injured with her sudden fall trying to see the face of her attacker but he was swathed in shadows. "Please don't…" Her voice cracked, fading to a whisper.

"Don't what?"

She flinched when she felt metal touch her cheek. _A knife. _She shook badly clutching her arms. "Please…?"

His laughter was the sound of several nails scraping over chalkboards and she clasped her hands to her ears to block out the horrible sound. He instantly seized her wrist, prying her hand away to him and she shrieked as the knife pierced her skin and struggled as she felt his tongue lap the blood that was seeping from the wound. "Just a taste, beautiful." His breath was on her face. "You wouldn't deprive a man of that, would you?"

His lips suddenly pressed against hers and she struggled fiercely as he pushed her down onto the unforgiving cement with one hand and pressed the knife to her throat with the other. "Ah a fighter." He whispered. "Generally I love playing a little hard to get but I'm in a hurry." Seizing her chin, he banged her head into the cement and then time seemed to happen in spurts as darkness gathered and receded in waves. He was on top of her and she was so cold only to realize that her clothes had been cut off her. Seconds or minutes later, he was already inside her…the pain alone was agonizing. He continued to laugh loving every minute of her suffering. Reveling in it. He was scintillated by it…

Minutes or hours later, he withdrew from her. Still a stranger…the night had so successfully his face. She knew he would kill her and it saddened her that she would not even know the name of this monstrosity before she would descend to her grave. For if there was any afterlife at all, if she knew, she would most certainly haunt him for all his days making certain that the tragedy she endured wouldn't be felt by another.

"I was your first, wasn't I?"

She lay there, not wanting to even benefit him with an answer. In the expanse of a few hours, he ripped away something she had saved…something she cherished. It was gone now within this den of impurity and this obscene monster that had stolen from her what she had so wanted preserved. "Why?" She asked. There would be no answer that would truly explain his horrendous deed but still she wanted to know.

"I was lonely." His voice, mocking. "You were worthwhile company." Noise sounded outside and he chuckled. "But ah…our night is at an end."

"Kill me quickly." She was dead inside already in the span of those few hours, everything she valued had quickly disappeared.

"That would be a waste but give it time, Anne. In the future, I might rise to the occasion."

He disappeared, melting into the shadows leaving her alone on the filth-ridden floor with nothing but the knife he abandoned to cut the clothes from her. She picked it up slowly, feeling the still dampness of her blood that tinged the knife. _My fault._ Sheer stupidity led her here and now she was nothing but a hollow shell. She clutched the blade in her hands squeezing it tightly between her palms adding more blood to the mix of foul elements within the hellhole she was abandoned in.

Breathing in and out, she scarcely heard the sounds of breaking glass and then another shadow swept over her….this one taller and more brooding. She screamed as its hands reached out to her and struggled as she was picked up. She closed her eyes willing this nightmare to dissipate only to be constrained into a cushioned seat, a heavy blanket wrapped her which made her unable to use her arms but she struggled against it anyway. How she begged for whatever monster this was to kill her quickly rather then put her through the agonizing hours that she had most recently endured.

Heavy silence met her with a low, guttural, "Relax, you're safe."

Elusive words she couldn't identify. A demon perhaps had seized her plunging her further within the depths of insanity. An engine started and she felt movement as the car proceeded into the very depths of hell. Sanity has given rise to insanity as she continued to whisper softly to herself. "My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault…"


	2. Chapter 2

Another demon had her. Anne was sure of it and rose beyond her sense of overwhelming shame to open her eyes to encounter a creature swathed entirely in black, his face obscured by it and his eyes glanced at her appearing desolate and inhuman. _They found me. _A singular superstition she had carried her entire life and ghosts from have returned with such ferocity.

All she had was her last bit of determination. She would not allow herself to be dragged back into that hell so easily. Her only weapon being one of surprise, she launched herself upon her captor, her fingernails attempting to make contact with skin but only confronting hard casing. He had come prepared it would seem. But his face remained partially exposed. The car swerved as he attempted to subdue her. She felt the vehicle hit something hard causing her to be thrown back against the door and she lost grip on him. She had lost a few precious seconds but threw herself back on him without reserve. The brakes were engaged as her fingers for the monster's eyes and suddenly she was seized and pushed back into the passenger seat. His right arm pressed against her chest, pinning her arms with such force she could scarcely breathe. Glimmering dark eyes met hers as an object came into view. A syringe of some sort. She met this revelation with all apparent resistance as she kicked her legs upward to buck him off of her.

But he paid little regard to her struggles only to give her the cautionary warning. "Relax. I'm not here to hurt you." Anne was beyond listening at the point and her resistance became more frantic as he removed the cap from the syringe. Swiftly he seized her chin and inserted the needle into the waiting vein into her neck. She screamed as he pushed the plunger downwards and watched her as her movements became weak and discordant. Her voice slurred. "You can't have it….you can't." Darkness was playing at the edges of her vision. "All inhuman but you won't have me…"

Bruce released the girl sitting upwards while observing her for a moment while the Tumbler was in idle. Somehow this attack by the Joker did not seem like one of sheer randomness. She was a puzzle piece of some kind and a definitive lead. The first real one Bruce had in several months of trying to discern the Joker's identity. As far as he could tell, the Joker was a ghost in the system. He didn't exist. His DNA and fingerprints held no matches. Beyond that, the Joker slipped in and out of maximum-security prison so easily that it would seem he could walk through walls.

But this girl was one that he left alive. That factor alone was baffling when Bruce knew for a fact that the Joker contained no mercy to the ones unfortunate enough to become his prey.

Yet, this one was left alive. Luck was the only precipitating factor, which led him to that particular side street. A report had been issued that it was an area that Crane chose to frequent in order to facilitate his chemical trade with the criminal underground. The investigation of the area seemed to be a dead end. No surefire evidence of any activity with exception of the rats that had made that building their home. But then he found the girl in a room just aside the alley. He was prepared to deposit her at the nearest hospital upon first sight until her nearly inarticulate protests and her visible injuries made him rethink that initial course of action.

Corruption in Gotham still hadn't been extinguished since Harvey Dent's supposed demise. Complications would arise in placing her in a hospital or police protective custody when leaks were still prevalent which might place the girl back in the Joker's hands and whatever information she had would be lost.

It was a difficult proposition and he didn't relish the prospect of locking her in his penthouse but her absence would not go unnoticed and he knew this would be deemed a kidnapping. Not to mention, he would have to contend with Alfred's displeasure upon holding her hostage for a likely interrogation.

He didn't regard the police as a threat to expose this act. His Batman persona was already accused of several murders. What was a kidnapping added to that resume? Yet, the girl's family would be distraught at her absence, which was his one consideration, and likely at her age, she still had parents looking on her and possibly a significant other. He could hazard a guess that she was likely in her mid twenties and judging by her clothing was just starting out in her career possibly at one of the nearby financial institutions, which bordered the street she had chosen to cut through. Her mid length dark blond hair flowed around a face more so interesting then beautiful. What struck him was the appearance of small scares around her forehead and one on her cheek. Old ones that were healed over but never entirely faded giving her marred face a one of suffered wisdom and weariness.

He pondered the scars with knowledge that most victims of child and spousal abuse had perpetrators that were wary enough to keep their blows where they could not easily be detected. But then, it could be as simple as an accident of some kind. Nevertheless, he headed to the warehouse to park the Tumbler, switch vehicles and finally head home.

Hopefully with some persuading Lucius Fox would consent to attend to her immediate care and help him keep yet another risky situation under wraps. He shook his head as he lifted her carefully and deposited her into his Lamborghini Murciélago LP640 taking a moment to marvel at this current vehicle. By his own count, it was his fifth car added to his collection of must haves for the image of a self-serving billionaire with too much money to spend. Still he could appreciate the singular work of the art the automobile was and how it lent itself to his own eccentric nature.

Getting behind the wheel, he glanced at the girl huddled in the passenger seat pondering her survivability. It was futile to guess, he knew but there would be time for answers when she regained conscious.

He placed a call to Lucius, asking him to meet him at his Penthouse while being vague as to why. Bruce knew he would never approve of this action. The end didn't justify the means to Lucius Fox. However Bruce has a far better chance to convince him to give treatment and collect evidence for analysis once he had her within the protective walls of his penthouse.

With a handpicked security team and all the adjustments made to his alarm system, it was indeed the safest place in the city.

It was only here within her dreamscape that she saw the beast inside the man. He pursued her continuously through each walk of life no matter how much she tried to deter him or where she ran to. The screams surrounded her. Friends, family, innocents…they all died viciously.

_His face changed constantly but she knew it was him every time because how can a monster really disguise himself. The shell will eventually fall apart sooner or later. Then more people would die in his gruesome thirst for violence, which never abated. _

_She was facing him again, his face distorted such as any horror movie would surmise. Her friends were there as well and he had them cornered. "You shouldn't have run," he told her while gleefully seizing the arm of the friend closest to him, placing the tip of his razorblade just underneath the girl's eye._

_Oh how she pleaded with him to spare her friend's life offering her life instead. "I think I'll have both." _

_She screamed as he viciously cut into her cheek, carving upwards dexterously as in sculpting a piece of art. Her friend's screams mingled with hers as she tried to close her eyes but somehow could still see…_

Anne woke violently from her nightmare, breathing hard. It was just a nightmare and that was all. But was it really? She glanced around her in panic to realize she wasn't in her room in her apartment. _What the hell?_ It was a significantly larger room rather Spartan in its furnishing aside for the bed on which she lay, the chest of drawers pushed against the opposite side of the wall and the nightstand next to her bed.

The gentle hum of the air conditioner ruffled the cream color sheets and gray mattress, which she pushed away in favor of finding a quick exit from this lifeless room. Getting to her feet proved to be a difficult matter as she encountered severe dizziness. Anne attempted to piece it together. She had the vague memories of walking home, passing an alley and then…something happened. She closed her eyes briefly. All the assorted pains within her body seemed to become distinguishable until one became more evident. _Oh God no._ She clutched her arms looking down at herself. Her work attire had been swapped out for a nightgown she didn't recognize. Surely not one she owned.

And now she was in this strange, utterly empty habitat, which lacked any kind of personality. She swallowed, trying to disengage the lump in her throat and stealthily confronted the door. Turning the knob, she was surprised to find it unlocked. She started down the hallway but froze when she heard two distinct voices in conversation.

"This is wrong Mr. Wayne."

She heard a sigh. "Just as wrong as to leave her in that alley?"

"That's not the same. You know where you crossed the line. She should be in the hospital."

"Lucius, you know he'll find her there. This is too important. I must find him."

"There's always a cost, Mr. Wayne. You know that."

"There's more of a cost to my inaction." Anne heard footsteps, and she crouched backwards, next to the wall. "She's the best lead I have to find out who he is. I can't take the chance that she'll disappear like others have."

"You should know your limits."

"You sound like Alfred."

"And your answer is..?"

"The same as it always was. I can't afford to know them. Neither can anyone. You remember too well what happened to Rachel."

A door opened. "Don't let her death sacrifice your morality." Anne inched forwards tentatively. "Your _guest _should be fine, physically. I'll take the swabs back for analysis and will let you know."

"Thank you Lucius."

"Don't thank me for enabling you. I am only trying to help her."

"I know."

After that, there was silence as Anne crept closer just enough to visualize the door. It was her definitive exit to freedom. She heard the footsteps softly recede and took a deep breath to steady herself.

In a burst of speed she ran for the exit, yanking open the door only to see a set of elevators. She frantically punched the down arrow yet the light, which indicated that option refused to come on. The door wouldn't open. Then she saw the keypad next to it and realized the doors were coded. Punching random numbers would be nearly futile and the possible combinations would be in the thousands. In sheer desperation, she attempted to pry off the cover of the keypad in hopes that possibly cutting the wires underneath would cause the elevator shaft to open.

A firm hand latched onto her shoulder and she recoiled, turning around expecting to see the fearful specter from her dreams. But it wasn't. Just a man without a hint of demonic prowess in him but rather attractive in a purely superficial way.

However this did nothing to less her concern of her current predicament. "I want to go home." Attempting to tug out of his grip only seemed to leave her with a pulled muscle and pain that radiated up her spine. "Let me go."

He was silent seeming to merely appraise her but then he simply shook his head. "I can't. Not right now."

She launched herself at him, screaming in fury, her nails meeting skin until he seized her arms dragging her backwards as she cursed him incoherently.

Just outside of Bruce Wayne's penthouse, he stood, his senses alive from feeling her, smelling her…the scent that led him here. "Come out, come out, where you are." His laughter was hideous. "You know you shouldn't try to run from me."

**I know I'm coming about the character development and their connection kind of slowly but there is a method to it...well at least, that is what I tell myself. I'm sorry for my lack of updates. Work has kept me rather busy but I will try to be quicker about it in the future. I suppose all I can say is if you're patient, I will put it together. **


	3. Chapter 3

He was strong and agile. A born fighter whom easily overpowered her, dodging her frenzied attacks while wrapping one arm around her neck, leaving her to gasp for air. Eventually fighting him left her depleted of energy as he dragged her back into the penthouse.

"Our new _guest _I presume, Master Wayne?" Alfred's gaze met Anne's with distinct compassion. "And when I thought things couldn't become worse, you have me aiding and abetting in a kidnapping."

Bruce released her, letting her fall into a chair in the living room. She bent over, sucking in air greedily while grasping her chest.

Alfred shaking his head went to kitchen, took a glass off the shelf, filling it with water from the tap. Wordlessly, he handed it to the girl whom at the moment had let out a series of hacking coughs.

A faint inclination of her head was her thanks to him as he backed away from her and looked upon Bruce with disappointment. It was a fatalistic view that Bruce Wayne had adopted to help him cope with Rachel's death, Harvey's collapse from grace and the public's shift of blame onto his shoulders.

That night after facing Harvey Dent, he had returned home, drained of energy with only the grimace on his face to show what happened. Alfred had been in shock, hearing the news on TV but knowing full well that Gordon never believed the lie he was trying so hard to convey.

"You told me to become something more then a hero."

Indeed Alfred had said that, fervently believing it to be true. But that night with the similar explanation given to him as Bruce had given to Gordon, "I'll be whatever Gotham needs me to be," words seem strangely deficient to counter his attitude. Bruce's esteem of himself clearly dipped as he was forced to hide and take far more discreet actions. He could no longer work openly with the police force that still were seeding out their corrupt agents. The mob never slept and the bribes continued.

Indeed, his actions were bordering on the line of a simple vendetta and now he brought home a hostage of his need for justice and revenge.

"You can't keep me here." Her voice cracked as she glared at Bruce with pure venom in her gaze.

"Would you prefer your attacker?" Bruce's startling retort caused Alfred to glance at him in disbelief.

Anne however screamed in anger, throwing the glass directly at his head. He wasn't quick enough, the glass shattering upon impact, slicing his forehead before hitting the hardwood floor.

She had hurt him and the thought filled her with a momentary glee. It was a shallow cut but still it was something.

Bruce seized a dishtowel off the counter, rounding on her as she stood up to face him. "I'm offering you protection."

"I don't need your help." Her hands clenched into fists.

"What happened last night speaks to the contrary."

Hitting the wall with her bare knuckle made her wince in pain. "You know nothing about what I've gone through." Her eyes froze upon his. "Nothing." She pointed to the window. "What you think you know of him….." Anne laughed humorlessly.

"Then tell me about him." The bleeding stopped and he quietly handed the towel back to Alfred.

"No. It'll make no difference." She glanced towards the door. "The less anyone knows, the better."

Bruce heaved a sigh. "Until you change your mind, I must insist that you stay."

Anne gazed at him incredulously. This man, this demon or one harboring several of his own making was insisting on fighting another whom only appeared to be a pale vestige of humanity.

"You don't get it. I'm not safe here."

"I assure you, my security…"

She held up a hand. "Is worthless to someone like him." She sighed, tiredly. "Walls can't hold him. I should know."

"Are you saying he's something more then just a man?"

"I'm saying nothing and you can't keep me here. This is kidnapping."

He shrugged. "As far as I can tell, I'm assisting the police in providing a safe house for a witness since corruption of the city has kept them in rather short supply."

"How…?"

"Being friends with the former ADA has its advantages." Bruce still had many sleepless nights thinking about Rachel. She had to come him for safety, however he had failed her lacking the willpower to unmask himself, rather letting Harvey Dent take the fall. This act had cost Dent his sanity and Rachel her life. Although Rachel had delegated his penthouse as a safe area during such times of chaos and uncertainty, it was done so mainly for her safety and no one else's.

Her death seemed to render that agreement moot until the day he discovered Anne McIntyre and was forced to act in her best interest as well as his own.

"You can't do this. My work…"

"Has been informed you're taking a leave of absence."

Her shoulders had sagged. The argument had exhausted her and she leaned heavily against the wall hating her own silent admittance of defeat. Bruce looked at her calmly as she returned his gaze with a glare only fitting her own frustration. The void in his eyes befuddled her and made her uneasy.

"Why?" She asked suddenly.

"Why what?"

"Why do any of this?" She shook her head. "Do you get some sort of thrill from it? Is going after scum some sort of act of redemption for you?"

"No." He paused. "It's complicated."

Anne snorted. "And you expect me to tell you everything." She turned and started to walk back to her room. "That's why I never trust anyone." No further words were said as she retreated into the darkened hallway.

She refused eat any of the food he offered in the days that followed. Bruce's consults with Lucius were maddening when the solutions offered were tedious and repellant. But Lucius maintained that he lacked knowledge in psychiatry and could only treat the physical manifestations which meant that he would have to decide whether Anne's will was greater then his own.

Certainly, he could have her put on an IV but such actions would do little to engender her trust in him.

He was indecisive and reckless. As Batman, he searched Gotham adamantly for signs of the Joker.

Evidence of Crane's toxin being on the black market emerged but the Joker had made himself scarce at the moment. Although, Bruce could hazard a guess that finding Crane might provide hints to the Joker's location as the criminal network, especially in Gotham ran in such close circles to each other.

Or so he hoped.

____________________________________________________________________

"_Come, little girl. Let us play!" The laughter was hideous and she closed her eyes burying herself deeper into the closet wrapping her arms tightly around her chest to still her breathing._

_She was only ten and her mother was away and left her alone with this creature. She shivered. It was cold and she couldn't help but let her teeth chatter. Her heartbeat was too loud, she knew. He was going to find her and drag her under those sheets again like he always did for as long as she knew. And she couldn't tell because no one could see him. Not really._

_No one really believes in demons or ghosts like she does. He made her believe in them._

"_Annie," His voice was maniacal. "You know you shouldn't try to run."_

_He was getting closer. "You know what I'll do to your friends, don't you?"_

_Yes, she did. She didn't dare make friends. He would slaughter them all for the sheer pleasure of it. _

"_What was her name? Oh come on Annie, speak up." Laughter sounded again. "I do love this game, don't I?" He paused. "Angela, wasn't it? Ah, yes it was. Wasn't she a treat? At least, I think so. Every last piece of her."_

_She hugged her knees to her chest and tried not to cry. It was her fault, she knew that Angela was dead. She never believed it when they told her it was an accident, a gas explosion in the house. Nothing was left, Angela burning alive or him cutting her apart and she couldn't stop any of it._

_The doors to the closet were yanked open and she was dragged out by her feet. She screamed in pain as her nails scratched against the wooden floor finding nothing to grasp as he wrenched her into a darkened room where the pain that awaited her made her long to have shared Angela's dismal fate._

Her screams woke her from the abysmal nightmare and she sat up rolling off her bed and to her knees onto the carpet. She flinched as a hand touched her shoulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked.

"No, especially not with you." She was nauseated and pressed her arms to her sensitive abdomen in order to stifle the urge to vomit on the thick, beige carpet.

Bruce kneeled down before her and offered her a glass. It was just water, Anne knew and for once, she hesitate in gulping it down as it seemed to erase some of the residue from the dream in her mind.

"You would feel better if you eat." He made the offer with a simplicity that surprised her. No threats of physical force although she knew he had to have considered his various options. It seemed she was a prisoner now of his and her own misfortune.

"No…I," She paused. "I just don't feel well. I don't think…"

"We can start off small."

It was a concession of some kind but she had to decide if she was willing to make it. Her thoughts were still her own and the identity she protected was safely hers. But Anne relied on her strength of will and her need for control. What would happen if that all were to slip away?

"You're only hurting yourself, not me."

She offered a small nod. It was the middle of the night and she lacked the will to retreat back into the paralytic fear of her dreams. A small concession seemed a far better choice to that of her nightmares.

_______________________________________________________________

A still set of ever present eyes watched the penthouse with scarcely concealed anticipation. Walls and security systems were scarcely a hindrance but he delighted in the game of chance where he was poised to turn those that dared to touch his prize to a pathway of corruption or a journey of sadistic delight.

**I am not the most pleased about this chapter but it was more of a character process and well doing work on other areas to bridge things together I suppose. Thank you for all the previous reviews and I'm sorry about the lateness of posting this. **


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